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Post by mongoose on Sept 12, 2008 21:59:54 GMT -5
Kihn froze, mid stride, one foot raised and poised to lower it on the ground. He lifted his fist, and the others, catching the movement, also froze. Eyes darted back and forth as Kihn quested with all senses, trying to determine what was wrong. He muttered a little prayer, silently, as he waited to determine what it was. “Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on us, sinners, and preserve us from all harm in the name of your son Jesus. Make my eyes quick my ears keen, and my mind active to know what to do now. Be glorified.”
He felt the peace almost instantly, and thanked God for it, but there was still something out there. It just wasn’t an imminent threat any more. He slowly put his foot down, feeling the ground beneath it to determine it was free of noise making twigs or leaves before he committed his weight. Then he saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, and slowly turned his head enough to get a good look at the flight of starlings winging south along the path they’d taken yesterday. Something had spooked them. He kept his fist in the air, and the other two lowered themselves to the ground to wait him out.
He felt, more than heard, the beating of rotor blades. The low sound diminished, and then the wind shifted, bringing it back to Kihn’s consciousness. Definitely a chopper, probably Blackhawk. The fact that he couldn’t hear the engine and rotor noise distinctly probably meant it was stealth. Only a few people had access to those, Robert and those under his command being the only ones in South Central Alaska that Kihn was aware of. He had his sources.
The conclusion was obvious. The pursuit had begun in earnest, progressed from unmanned to feet dry, in country. And they were trying to keep it dark, again. So like last time.
The memories flooded back, painful, and he squinted against it as he lost focus on his surroundings. Kihn lowered himself to the ground to avoid falling, and tried desperately to sort it all out.
They were after him, gaining, and his chances of escape were low because they were so close. Someone was very determined to destroy him, and he didn’t stand a chance in a face to face confrontation with them. He was around a corner, their engine noise diminishing, and he shifted up and stomped on the accelerator, taking the mountain turns at dangerous speeds. It was now or never.
He waited a moment and then cranked the wheel around. Too late. The roll top jeep went into a skid, hit the guard rail, tipped. Hung for a moment. Kihn gasped, thrust himself forward, upward. He was stuck! The seat belt dug into his shoulder as the vehicle accelerated downward. He would be crushed on the rocks below if he didn’t get free. He struggled . . .
“Kihn! Kihn! It’s okay!” Someone was shouting at him, the seat belt was still there across his shoulder, and he twisted around to get free, his elbow smashing into something hard. He was being attacked, held. He twisted again, shoving his other fist into his attacker’s stomach, finally opening his eyes. . . Carlos stepped back, holding his middle, sucking in lost breath. “Kihn, it’s me, Carlos! Snap out of it hesse.”
Kihn fell back, still encumbered by his pack straps, blinking, bewildered as he tried to make sense of it all. His surroundings came back into focus after what seemed like minutes. He wasn’t driving a jeep off a cliff in the smoky mountains of the east. That was Carlos trying to restrain him, but not to kill him, like last time. He was in Ship Creek Canyon with his wife, who looked on the verge of terror, and his best friend, who, he hoped, hadn’t suffered any injuries from his outlash.
He breathed hard for a moment, gathering himself. “I’m, I’m so sorry, Carlos. Did I hurt you? Can I do anything?”
“No, man. I’ll be fine. Just, try to stay with us for a while, okay? And I think your wife’s a little worried.”
“Oh, Susan.” He shook his head, grimacing again, trying to come to grips with it. Then his face went into a stern, neutral mien reserved for times when he couldn’t deal with the emotional turmoil within, much less people’s potential reactions to it.
“It’s nothing. Just memories. Try not to walk too close. Oh, and they’re coming for us in a chopper. We need to get to high ground as much as possible without leaving cover. We travel into the night and rest when we reach a defensible position. You two be ready to snipe the enemy. Understood?”
“Understood.” Carlos said, nodding curtly though his eyes showed marked disapproval.
Susan shook her head. “Kihn, what’s wrong with you? That wasn’t just memories. What happened?” She pleaded, no longer upset at him for his earlier error at the stream, but now concerned.
“Move out,” was Kihn’s only response, and he turned his back to her.
“Kihn! I’m your wife, not your soldier. Don’t talk to me like that!” He just grunted and took another step.
“You aren’t in the service anymore. Your health is more important than that . . . blasted ‘classified’ business. You need to tell me!” He turned on her then, almost snarling, and Carlos made a point of interposing himself. ----------------------- He’d seen Kihn like this a couple of times, and it wasn’t him, not the Snowy Owl, born of the blood of Christ. He wasn’t safe to be around when these flashbacks hit him. Carlos began to pray, hard, even as he listened to Kihn’s response.
“I do not need to tell you anything.” Each word flew from his mouth with a force indicating the effort at control he was using. “You don’t want to know, not really.”
He turned and trudged off with a finality that denied Susan any response, ignoring for the moment the obvious trail he left as he headed up the slope.
Carlos sighed, shook his head sadly at Susan, muttering something about PTSD, and followed, doing what he could to erase or at least minimize the trail. --------------------------- Susan ground her teeth and mumbled to herself about men and soldiers, and how they’d rather die of angst than confide in people who loved them, and followed, grudgingly. Why had she married this beast to begin with?
Her internal diatribe continued for several minutes, until she realized Carlos had dropped back to deal with her trail as well. Then she turned her thoughts to her Lord and ever present help in times of trouble, crying out to him silently for deliverance from this darkness that seemed to entangle. Her cries shifted from concern for herself and the dangerous situation she was in, to concern for the love of her life, the man who had come when she was most in need and rescued her, not by scaring off the controlling boyfriend, but by presenting her with hope and love and compassion. He was incredibly gentle for his sternness, for the inference she drew that he had killed people and done and seen horrible things in the service of his country.
He seemed to switch; such dramatic changes in personality, desire, behavior. She wondered sometimes if he had some kind of multiple personality disorder. Manic Depression. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as Carlos had indicated. Did it matter? Something was messed up in the head of this great man, and it just wasn’t right! “Deliver him!” she cried under her breath to the great healer, again and again. “Deliver him in Jesus name.” It was all she could think to say as she took up his part with a ferocity in the spirit that, if she could have seen, matched the ferocity with which Kihn had once taken down his enemies of flesh and blood. -------------------------- For a time Kihn took out his frustration on the slope, ascending in the longest steps he could manage with his relatively short legs and heavy pack. It was the sunlight that arrested his movement. Sunlight wasn’t good. If the sun could see you, so could the enemy. He ducked back and again took stock of his surroundings. Movement several hundred yards below marked the not so stealthy progress of his wife. But then, his own trail to this point was obvious. He cursed himself for his lack of control, but could hardly feel the loathing he thought appropriate. He had a hard time even caring.
But something else was at work here, and he found he did care, but it wasn’t anger and self loathing that he felt so much, as simple regret at his lingering in-ability to deal with his past, to give it up, to give the love to his wife that she deserved. He slumped back against a tree, sat with feet stretched before him, and nearly sobbed. He was so far beyond crying. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to really feel, deeply. “Why, oh Lord, did you put me through all this? Wasn’t there another way? Why won’t you take it all away? How can I be who you want me to be, when I’m that murderer, or soldier at least, who can’t care? I did care once, and he was burned alive! What am I supposed to feel? What am I supposed to think? To do? Oh, God . . .” The pain was real and physical, and he fell to his side, holding his middle, eyes screwed shut. “Help me, please.” And then he did cry, though he did not move. Just held his middle and let the tears leak down his face and into the dirt. ------------------------------- So Susan found him, worn somewhat from the climb though she was in excellent shape. Her anger at his response gone, she saw her love hurting and in need even as she had been once. No longer caring for her safety, she let her pack slide to the ground behind her, as she knelt before her husband, and slowly reached her hand out to his wounded shoulder. “Kihn, my husband,” she hardly spoke it, but prayed he understood. “I love you. I have always loved you, and no matter what you did, or ever will do, I always will love you. You are a great man, and the reason I’m alive and whole today. Kihn, I beg you, know my love. Come back to me! Be free.” A part of her knew it would sound corny to others, but she didn’t care. It was her heart, and she poured it out before him, as she lay her head gently against his chest, wrapped an arm around him, and wept with him.” ----------------------------------- Carlos caught up, walking backward up the slope, an alder branch in his hand which he used to sweep the forest floor debris back across their path. He heard their gentle sobs and whispers behind him and stopped, turning slowly. What he saw reached out and grabbed his heart, and he knew it was good. He almost let out a whoop of joy then and there, dancing a jig, but settled for a smile and a whispered thanks to the God who was there, always providing whatever was needed.
Several minutes passed before they recovered sufficiently to sit up, and Carlos joined them from where he’d stood watch over them. They sat then, and talked, and more tears were shed as the peeling back of the scab over the old wounds began. For the first time Kihn revealed the mission that had set everything in motion. For the first time Carlos confessed his efforts to hunt and kill Kihn, and hinted at the atrocities he’d committed along the way. Neither he nor Kihn could bring themselves to tell Susan the gruesome details, but she got the point. They had been murderers, both of them. Not only military assassins like so many others, but those who willfully chose to pursue and kill out of anger.
Yet they were new creations, she assured them. The old things had passed away, and behold, all things had been made new. See how God had changed them all, already, how much good Kihn had done in leading Anchorage City Church into the revival that had swept Alaska and the Pacific coast. Why did he think the Islamists were after him with choppers and UAVs? Surely not just because he was an ex-soldier on the run. There had to be dozens of those chaffing at foreign control of their nation. Kihn must know what it took to provoke the PTBs to devote those kinds of resources. He was a serious threat to the enemy, and the enemy knew it, which was why he attacked so heavily against such a small opposition force.
Not so small, however, in spiritual terms, Carlos insisted. The cloud of witnesses, the angels that strove on their behalf, and the simple power of the Holy Spirit within them would far outweigh anything the enemy could foist against them, if only they would only submit themselves therefore to God and resist the Devil. Basic principles of spiritual warfare that he knew Kihn understood, had heard him preach dozens of times before, seen worked out among the prayer warriors of the church led by Susan. They were already victorious, and simply had to walk in it, through the fire and the flood if necessary.
Kihn admitted they were both right, and apologized for being such a block head. Their problems weren’t solved, but at least now they could move on with a greater degree of understanding and trust of each other. That was, they could move on once they had replenished the energy lost in the battle and the charge up the ridge. They pulled out their cliff bars and sat in companionable silence against their packs, munching on the nutritious energy snacks.
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Post by mongoose on Sept 13, 2008 6:22:10 GMT -5
Herbert was at a distinct disadvantage and he knew it. Most obviously, he was new to this area, and though their area of operation in Central Asia was similar in terrain and climate, there would be factors unique to this Chugach range. So it was that he and Grant poured over the topo maps and photos for much of the night, as well as the information Robert left on opposition structure, strength and operations. They each took it in turns to sleep for a few hours, already in the pursuit mode, while the others used their laptops and the hard copies available to research the matters most relevant to their specialties.
None of them had been deployed on active military duty in the last three years. At least not officially. Another disadvantage which they could turn to their advantage. Their noteworthy origins as desert nomads, raiders and Palestinian insurgents notwithstanding, the enemy officers despised mercenaries and guerrilla warriors as unorganized, undisciplined infidel rabble. Sun Tzu had said that when you are weak you should appear strong, and when you are strong you should appear weak.
So it was for Herbert and his team, all of them civilians, some of them soldiers for hire more or less frequently. Herbert, now owner of a significant security consulting firm, had not been on an operation as such, but he'd made it a point to train with his teams whenever the business end allowed. They wouldn't give him all the heavy duty or dirty work anymore, but he could command as well as ever and had kept his mind for strategy and tactics, as well as his marksmanship and some other skills. Each of the others had remained active in one way or another, and all would be extremely effective in the mountains and against their present foe.
They had their advantages, beside being underestimated by the enemy. Getting to write their own rules of engagement, being entirely outside any chain of command was a blessing. Their gear would be top of the line, unlike the mass produced run of the mill stuff left over to the U.S. Special Operations forces, or the pure junk patched together or stolen by the Islamic usurpers. Herbert knew this, as did his sergeants, having designed much of it to their own specifications and field tested it themselves. He was reminded of a line from a recent batman movie in which the product R & D department head told batman that the military had chosen not to utilize a product because it was too expensive for them to mass produce. But Herbert only sold his gear to select customers; the very wealthy, the very paranoid, and the very resistant to the Islamist movement. He kept the best for his own people, which again comprised Kihn's old team. His gear, therefore, was superior.
By the time Robert returned they were as ready as any team new to the region could be, some of them already dressed in their religious inspectorate uniforms. Robert, still a career officer in the army, raised an eyebrow as he approached the front of the room, noting the weapons being put away once his status as a friendly was established.
"So, report?" He moved off to the side and took a seat, relinquishing the front to whomever would present first. Herbert stood.
"Well, sir, it looks fairly simple. Kihn, it has been verified, went on the run with his wife, and most likely Carlos. The two were inseparable, except for one particular mission."
Dalton, medic who recently became a trauma surgeon but maintained an interest, with a master's degree in psychology raised his hand, and Herbert nodded. "Neither of them are likely to let that happen again. There are several references to their recent partnership, both in the management of the hostel Kihn purchased last year, and in his church. His faith, by the way, will be a significant factor. Word had it he'd foresworn violence in favor of service to and dependence upon the loving and all powerful Christian God. In fact, he's been broadcast preaching the same doctrine repeatedly and without reserve on the recently censured TBN." He delivered the assessment in a clinical fashion, revealing nothing of his personal beliefs.
"I can confirm that." Robert said.
"I supplied him with a number of non-lethals. He'll go as far as possible without killing. But I guarantee the Op For won't be happy, or healthy when he's done with them," Herbert said.
Jones, on weapons, ejected a clip from a custom made assault carbine based on the F N Fal bulpup, and presented it to Robert "We're bringing a few of our own, Just in-case we meet any American hostiles, or are forced to engage the Owl. We'll also have the usual, including armor piercing, incendiary, and several grenades, a couple LAWs. But every thing's color coded, stored separately in our vests, which we'll pull out once we go feet dry. The arab officers and NCOs still like to go with just the sidearm and AK when on the road. We'll do the same. We've all checked out on the slew within the last year, at Herbert's insistence, and won't get confused." He grinned. Just like a kid in the toy store, Robert imagined. He'd never been happier than when introduced to Herbert's civilian arms warehouse.
Herbert pointed to Grant, who continued the briefback. "We know he had to leave the bus here, to avoid the road blocks. Which means he could either parallel the road, but there's too much residential devel along there. So he would go East, but there's not enough room for a long term guerrilla campaign in the Southern Chugach between Anchorage and Prince William Sound, so he needs to head north without following the popular trails. That means he'll take one of the lower passes out of Ship Creek Canyon, and then north past the eastern end of the Eagle River valley. He'll try to skirt Crow pass to the west. Then he has a choice to follow the sound around toward Canada, or north to the Talkeetnas and Alaska ranges, where he'd be almost home free. The eastern route would risk a great deal of travel along the glaciers and other hazardous terrain, and we all know they're loyal to the muslims over there. So he'll probably head north and race for the Talkeetnas. We'll borrow a military truck and head up the Glenn Highway to Eagle River. There's this trail up the valley from the nature center. We can run it in four hours or less and begin our scout of the passes into the valley from Ship Creek. He'll be trying to hide his trail, so we'll make far better time and should have reasonable coverage by the time he reaches us. We wouldn't be able to catch him in the net, but we only need to make contact, and we'll be within radio range. We can only hope, with Carlos along, that they'll have at least one of our Iraqi souvenirs."
Other members of the team went on to describe their plans for communications, dealing with weather and terrain, the various local and foreign players, and SERE contingencies. Robert asked a few questions for clarification, acknowledged that he couldn't know it all, and they established protocols for communications between himself and the team. When Robert was satisfied he promised a truck and departed.
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Two hours later they were fully packed, loose fitting street clothes arranged over their religious inspectorate uniforms. Secret as the true nature of the establishment in which they met might be, it was under suspicion, and it wouldn't do to attract attention to themselves, dressed as Inspectorate personnel in a place most inspectorate personnel wouldn't be caught dead. Two honks were heard, and they shouldered their bags and headed out the back to the waiting truck. Once inside and no longer visible to other travelers or locals, they stripped the street clothes and carefully checked each others' uniforms. All was in order as much as possible. They looked every part a religious inspectorate patrol, down to the faked orders and strong middle eastern accents.
They reached the Eagle River Visitor's center, already far up the valley, without incident. It offered a small museum of pictures of local geography, flora and fauna, with a few touchable samples in a large log cabin overlooking the river. After glancing around disinterestedly, as would be expected of the Inspectorate, they marched a little distance down the wheel chair accessible gravel trail. They had to get clear of any tourists that might be out this late in the season before they could make their move. It was strange enough to see Inspectorate personnel carrying packs, but a stern glance and utterance of the traditional Islamic greeting would shut the mouths of most.
Finally Jones on point, and Berton on rear guard confirmed that the trail was clear for several hundred feet in either direction. The team, two at a time, dove into the brush between the trail and the river, and once deep enough, dropped their bags and began to change. Soon they were all outfitted as fastpackers in the best and newest clothes and gear from various outdoor recreation shops around the country, down to their polypropylene and heavy duty trail running shoes. All of it had been painstakingly selected, purchased with cash, striped of tags, labels and logos, and died in a variety of earthy tones. It wasn't camouflage but it would do, and would attract less attention. No one sold mossy oak running outfits on the mass market, yet.
They left the uniforms and military bags behind with their street clothes, all expertly concealed. The change took a total of ten minutes, and the whole group took off down the trail at a brisk jog indicative of their long tradition of forced ruck runs under the Snowy Owl. The trail was flat and relatively uninteresting, and they passed several smaller groups of hikers on their way out with nods and dubious greetings from those who resented being passed so quickly.
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Post by newburydave on Sept 15, 2008 5:02:42 GMT -5
Time: Day 2 from escape 09:00 hrs
Sahiem and his trance companions ranged north then west questing, looking for the escaped preacher and his party. They found nothing.
Returning toward Anchorage the three voyagers swept over Fort Richardson and then Elmendorf Airbase. As he passed over the military installations he noted that there were many bright flames among the military personnel. _I'll have to see to that,_ he thought, _Such a large Christian presence among the troops could pose a problem when we start the purges of the civilian population._
One thing that particularly troubled him was what looked like a cluster of Christian spirit flames in the area where he knew the Air Force serviced and controlled the UAV's which were tasked to the Religious Inspectorate. The high tech UAV's which had so far been very good at not finding the fleeing party. _I must take Hafiz and have a talk with Colonel Al Husani about the loyalty of the technicians on the UAV project,_ he thought, _and a few words to Colonel Ibn-Saud about the infantry at Fort Richardson might be in order too._
***********************
As the three disembodied spirits soared back toward their bodies Amin focused once more on the spirit flames of his companions. The Imam's was still a spiritual black hole. He wrenched his gaze away from the almost hypnotic swirl of darkness to Sahiem's spirit flame.
Thick cables of almost palpable darkness twisted through the spirit flame above Sahiem's body. In them he could see the lust for power growing and bloodthirstiness. Sahiem's spirit was actually beginning to crave the bloodletting of the religious purges. These strains of darkness seemed to be trying to quench and strangle the remnants of light that still writhed in conflict with the darkness. A thought came unbidden to his mind, _Sahiem looks like one who is sinking fast under powerful bonds of evil._
Amin shook his head mentally again. _So it is true, my Emir is being overcome with evil. I dare not trust him anymore._
Just before he plunged back into his own body he examined his own spirit flame closely. Thick black tentacles writhed and battled with the light in his soul. He saw the hatred of vengefulness and his growing taste for power but this blackness of darkness was an alien presence, not part of his own darkness. _This spirit that I have received as the wisdom of Allah is itself darkness much deeper than the evil thoughts of my own heart,_ he mused, _That is what I received from the Imam; a spirit of dark hunger that hates the light, like his own. Where can I turn for help?_
The three men came back to consciousness in the Imam's study. The Imam tried to rise but his older muscles and joints couldn't support him after lying prostrate for so long, he listed to one side and fell over onto one side. Sahiem rose stiffly from his own place and went to help the older man. Amin rose up from his prostration with the fluid grace and flexibility of youth to find both of the older men looking at him expectantly.
Amin realized that they were waiting for him to speak, "The seeking quest was not as I expected it to be Effendi." He said to the Imam, "The darkness and light of men's spirits was surprising."
The Imam started to reply, something about animalistic spirits and true wisdom appearing as darkness in the questing trance, but Amin now knew that everything the Imam was saying was just lies; he could never trust his teaching again. His head spun, _Where can I turn, who will know the truth?_ Suddenly a certainty of truth seemed to lance through his mind, _Jamila will know. She is one of the pure ones. I shall have to contrive a way to talk to her._
The Imam and Sahiem droned on for nearly an hour, asking questions and instructing him in their fraudulent interpretational scheme for the oracular sight. Amin had tuned them out. He nodded appropriately and answered some but his mind was far away cataloging impressions and the perceptions of the causes of darkness and causes of the light he had seen in people.
To say that Amin was a genius in the human psyche would have missed the mark by several orders of magnitude. In this area of knowing people he was far above the norm. Most of his Psychology professors in college had been amazed at his instinctive insights. Now he bent his considerable intellect to catalog and develop a true schema to interpret what he saw in his trance. And his assessment of religious things was colored by his analysis of Sahiem and the Imam, he would never again try to seek truth in Islam, he had only seen the blackness of darkness in his native religion. True some of the Christians seemed to be no better but here and there were some who were white lights in the darkness.
Again he thought to himself, _I must find a way to talk to Jamila privately she will know. She cannot be truly Islamic in her heart; she must be a Christian to have such a purity of spirit. Yes I must talk to her, she will have answers._
************************ Time: Day 2 since escape; 18:00 hours
The stealthed Pave Low hovered above the trees below the ridge where the second UAV had augured in. The pilot spoke over the intercom to Dale Earnhardt. "Sorry Sergeant this is the best we can do, there are no good landing sites near here. You and your men will have to fastrope in."
"Thanks CWO, I expected that, just put us in as close to the ridge as you can, in a clearing."
"Well Sergeant I think that clearing up ahead is your best bet. Prepare to fastrope in." The helicopter came to a hover 80 feet above a small clearing near the base of the slope.
The team unhooked from the restraints in their seats and moved to the doors. They donned thick gloves and shook out the fastropes. The thick ropes snaked down to kiss the ground below. Earnhardt spoke into his intercom headset, "Departing now." He unhooked the headset and handed it to the load master at the door. He nodded to the team. One by one they took hold of the fastropes and stepped into space, at the last moment each trooper gripped the rope to slow his fall to a soft landing on the ground. Earnhardt was the last man down, the others had already set up a perimeter.
Dale clicked his implanted sub-vocal microphone control, "Kodiak 1 to Eye 1, thanks for the ride. We'll call if we need your help. Over."
"Roger that Kodiak 1. We'll monitor your frequency, good hunting. Eye 1 outd." With that the helicopter nosed into a sweeping turn lifting away from the slope, reeling in the fastropes. Settling into nape of the Earth flight mode it skimmed the trees back down the canyon. The tracking team was well and truly alone.
Earnhardt scanned the clearing and stopped at Jeremiah. The big Yakut was down on one knee studying the ground. Earnhardt carefully walked over to him, "Got something Jeremiah?"
Jeremiah looked up at him, "We don't have to climb up to the ridge. One man came through here moving fast last night.
Earnhardt studied the ground and was able to just make out the sign of moccasin clad feet spaced at a run. He looked up the slope then down the slope. "Well we've already killed most of one day. Lets backtrack on this trail to see if it goes back up to the UAV crash site."
The other three looked at him; Questions resounding behind their eyes. To himself Earnhardt thought, _Two days, Taylor had said. Two days to fry the Saudi Colonel. Yes we can do this. Have to check in with Taylor at nightfall and let him know._
***********************
Maximillian de-Acosta de-la-Vega Fuentes, the new president of the Aztlan Federal Republic finished speaking and sat back from the recording device. Ernesto Sanchez, his vice president and governmental hi-tech interface person, shut off the recorder. "Well Jefe do you think he'll come in with us?"
"Even if he doesn't come in officially, he's still with us in here," he thumped his chest over his heart, "Such a one as he is walks in the spirit and is one with us in reality if not in uniform."
Ernesto nodded, "True, but it would be better, even with his checkered past, if he were in our chain of command. He may not be mestizo but his people suffered much the same as ours did. When Alaska joins the Republic it will be easier if we already have some military cadre's in place to organize the defense."
Maximillian stood, "Probably compadre, but we'll let the big heavenly Jefe worry about that strategy for now. Get this over to the L.A. Geeks, I'll go check on the Spirit warriors." He turned toward the doorway to a small amphitheatre next to the new presidential office.
As Ernesto slipped out the door to the hallway he heard Maximillian open the door to the amphitheatre, the groans and pleading voices of the hundred or so prayer warriors in the current link-group of the 24 hour prayer chain washed over him. The hallway door closed with a solid thunk cutting off the sound. He smiled to himself, _Let the Islamists diddle with the levers of political power in Washington, our Spirit warriors pull on the real levers of power that control this universe. The prayer chain is growing rapidly so let those Demonic hosts behind the Islamic power grab tremble. Michael the archangel must be on his way by now._
The great Latino revival had started among the field hands, domestics and service workers around Brownsville, Texas in 2017. It was still growing. It had collided with the Islamification directives in Oklahoma City last year 2019. That collision of evil with the Revival had given birth to the spontaneous prayer chains.
The movement had gotten a boost when it had merged with the Anglo revival that had swept down through British Colombia from Alaska. So now Anglos and Mestizo's bowed together in prayer, united in the Spirit. all the way from Alaska to the southwestern Mexican border. Many credited the creation of the new free Christian state of Aztlan in the Southwestern US and Western Mexico to these grass roots prayer chains.
The Aztlan movement of La Raza, Shorn of the early racist overtones of groups like MEChA, had provided the rallying point for the formation of the Aztlan Federal Republic. They welcomed all who embraced the American principles of freedom. If they happened to be committed Christians as well, it was all the better. Power to the People finally had a real face and it was more usually a Latino-American face. The Mestizos had returned to Aztlan.
The public education indoctrination pushing Multiculturalism and Kids for Peace at any price, fostered by CAIR and other Islamic front groups had emasculated the eastern Anglo American culture. They lost the will to defend themselves and thus allowed the Islamists to walk in the front door and take over.
The Latino's were the only cohesive group in the old US who had the fire and principles to resist. Even the ones who didn't get into the Evangelical revival became more devoted to their Christian faith in the Catholic church. The armies loyal to the Islamified US wouldn't or couldn't stand against the less well equipped but more fiercely devoted armies of the AFR.
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Manuel Fuentes was not in heaven but to his mind it was heaven's antechamber. His Virtual Reality headset gave him a god's-eye-view of the digital landscape of the extended internet. Bright spots glowed showing friendly nodes across the globe. Dark blood red nodes, like an advancing tide of death, showed where the Islamist fanatics had co-opted nodes from their legitimate controllers and bent them to their own demonic plans. Usually that meant that the controllers were already dead or imprisoned awaiting trial on blasphemy charges. Most of them were Manuel's friends For Manuel this whole war with the Islamists was very personal and very ugly.
Let his father play el Presidente, he preferred organizing and marshaling the forces of the AFR's cyber warfare command known as Los Angelos de Ciberespacio or The Angels of Cyberspace. Their unofficial name, the L.A. Geeks, referred to their original home base.
Following the enactment of the Anti-Discrimination laws there had been spontaneous revolts across the Latino Southwest and in western Mexico. As order returned out of the revolutionary chaos, the California state governmental complex had become the seat of the new AFR National Assembly.
As the AFR organized itself in Sacramento the Cyber War command, who had actually organized a lot of the "Spontaneous" uprisings, had been moved into an annex to the former governor's mansion. But the Sacto Geeks didn't have the same ring to it, and it sounded vaguely pornographic, so they had remained the L.A. Geeks.
The primo hackers under Manuel's command were good troops. They were undoubtedly the highest virtuoso's in the whole of hackerdom. Their rank within the organization was totally determined by skill and challenge. Most were his close friends. Unfortunately they were not all Christians, yet.
An icon popped up in his VR universe signaling a physical entrance into his workspace. He flipped his VR eye shield up and turned in his chair.
"Hey Manuel, how's it going?"
"Good Ernesto, do you have Dad's latest surprise package?"
Ernesto held out the digital recorder, "Right here, you got the delivery route set up mano?"
Manuel took the recorder and jacked it into his workstation, "You doubt me? Remind me to slag more of your dragons the next time we meet online for combat."
"Like you could. You still haven't figured out how to get through my mega-dragon defense."
Manuel was working the whole time they were bantering; he uploaded and compressed the audio file, added a text message header and packaged the whole thing as what looked like an AOL text message.
"Hey Nesto, how's the Castle of Doom project coming?"
"It's coming great, I've got military people from all over the world playing it. There seems to be a real competition developing between infantry people, who think they have an advantage, and our Air Force girl teams. It's turning out to be a hotter social networking site than facebook ever was."
"Good, good. The recruiting phase is due to kick off next week, right?"
"You got it, this should be sweet for us and doom for the ragheads."
Manuel launched his fake AOL package into cyber space with the thought, _Well Stephanie, I hope you like the package; and I hope to see you soon little one._ He still felt chagrined whenever he thought of his girlfriend up in far off Alaska. She was a good troop, but why had she volunteered to lead one of the most dangerous missions that the L.A. Geeks had ever taken on?
***************
The "AOL text message" bounced through several cutout servers hidden in the security systems of blood red US federal government network nodes. It zigzagged its way from the network entry point in Chigago to Washington DC. Then it leapt the Pacific on a diplomatic satellite uplink to another cutout server in Japan. It then relayed itself across the Japan Sea to an open server in the Seoul, the capital of the Korean Province of the New Middle Kingdom Confederacy. From there it bounced through several other open servers along mainland China's internet trunk line to a cutout server on Taiwan. From there it entered an encrypted satellite uplink to Elmendorf Air Force base in Anchorage, AK.
An out of channel, strictly non military and probably illegal box popped up in Specialist Jennifer Lopez's desktop. I claimed to be a response to a purchase inquiry for a popular women's wear retail website. The store that owned the website was in Seattle, Washington.
She opened the box and perused the contents. She then opened a system level box on her desktop and launched a process that ran outside of any monitoring software or surveillance. She typed in a string of what looked like garbage characters then closed the box and forwarded the women's wear "purchase order" to another workstation in the UAV control trailer. One of the other specialists, Stephanie LaChance, looked up and said, "Thanks Jen, I owe you one."
"De Nada Steph. Next time, you run the cutout." Jennifer closed the extra boxes and went back to her programming task. Everyone knew that the Geeks in UAV control ran outside the system, it was accepted as part of their expertise. If they couldn't game their own systems they couldn't stop the real outside hackers who wanted to do it for real. At least these tame geeks were on our side.
At the bottom of one of the UAV control screens in front of Senior Specialist Sean O'Connor an innocuous box popped up that looked like a navigational coordinates side-bar. He selected one of the controls and opened a text box. "Whachu got?" he typed into the box and hit send. A similar display opened on Jennifer's navigational screen. ************
Colonel Al-Husani sat across the narrow aisle at one of the unused control stations. He was not looking at the powered down screens. He had the chair cranked around and was studying the profile of Specialist Lopez. _She has got to be one of the prettiest super geeks I've ever met._ he thought for the sixth time in as many minutes.
He remembered the first time he had come across the online handle "Raza.Technobabe99" on an online collaborative challenge board. With typical Saudi macho contempt for women in the technical fields he had thrown up a network penetration problem to her that he had just figured out in another challenge forum. He had been stunned when she had blown through it and proposed a solution that was much more elegant and undetectable that the one he had come up with. Then she had cross challenged "Dahakka.Hack4life" with an interfacing stealth problem that it had taken him three days to figure out.
They had bumped into each other online for the next several years and even flirted some while he worked his way through several liaising jobs with NATO and then the US Joint Chiefs. She had been working her way through undergraduate studies at Cal Tech Berkley.
One thing he learned was that this "Technobabe" was one of the slickest geeks in hackerdom. He had also puzzled out the fact that she was a high school Junior when they had first crossed swords online. An MIT doctoral student being waxed by a California High Schooler, the initial shock had mellowed into a powerful attraction. What a wife one so smart would make.
When the voluptuous 29 year old Latina Specialist had finally met the tall hawk nosed 37 year old Saudi Colonel and they realized that Raza.Technobabe99 was actually meeting Zahakka.Hack4Life in the flesh, sparks had flown on both sides of the M1-A1 biological interface protocol. They had been reserved outwardly but their online avatar's relationship had heated up considerably.
As the new box opened up on her monitor Jennifer glanced over at Al-Hussani and smiled, _Good, he is still checking me out, not watching my screens._ "Hey Steph do you have--"
At the other end of the trailer Stephanie stomped on her bunkmates question, "I'm being hacked again...Vince, take my bird!" She slapped the red panic button that had been added to the left hand end of her console. At the console next to her Vicente Gutierrez slapped the green Go button at the right of his console. Both buttons activated a set of physical micro switches. Stephanie's panic button physically disconnected her workstation from the uplink telemetry unit and Vincent's Go button physically connected his workstation to the same telemetry. The swap out took less than a tenth of a second.
"Got it Steph," he said, "it looks like the onboard controller didn't even blink. We're getting better."
Stephanie launched several more blocking and defense routines as the hacked in worms fought for control of her workstation, "It's about time," she muttered. The hacking attacks were coming in every fifteen minutes or so now, and they'd lost another UAV earlier today when it had just cut the downlink and flown off to the southwest out to sea.. So the only way to fly any UAV's was to have a hack proof switching protocol with multiple control stations up at all times. They still didn't know how the hackers were getting into their command net.
It had taken some genius to set up the system that finally worked. The workstations were digitally isolated from each other by hardware firewalls. A bank of rotary 120 position steppers were physically connected to a bank of 120 position rotary switches. The driving workstation updated the stepper combinations to key in the currently executing program locations. The receiving workstation kept updating an identical program based on the output of the rotary switches. When the operators hit their buttons simultaneously the receiving workstation picked up control almost seamlessly. It was clumsy and needed some major programming efforts to set it up but it worked without the need for a digital data link which would allow a worm to cross invade.
Colonel Al-Husani got up and moved down the trailer to watch over Stephanie and Vicente's shoulders. He was pretty good at defensive routines and thought he might be able to help out the younger specialists. It had been a shock to the young super geeks when the raghead Colonel had turned out to be not only one of them but one of them who had solved a legendary challenge. He never told anyone that the "Technobabe" had helped him.
He glanced briefly at the empty terrain showing on the monitors of Vicente's workstation, unaware that the video feed was actually recorded twenty minutes ago and was now being played back in the "real time downlink". The UAV currently was flying over a three person hiking party just below the treeline in the valley leading up to Flute Glacier.
The hacker attacks every fifteen to twenty minutes made the reruns and recording easy to accomplish. One of the micro switches under the go buttons automatically spliced in the last recording selected by the active controller at the time of disconnect so the video feeds appeared almost seamless. The real finesse was for the on duty controllers to choose backed up recordings on the fly that approximated what had been on the screen just prior to the hand-off.
Once the UAV got away from Flute Glacier it would be less nerve wracking. The whole team knew they were walking a razor's edge, especially with Dahakka.Hack4Life looking over their shoulders. Jennifer had her work cut out for her.
**********************
Jennifer opened a text box on her "navigational Controls" sidebar and saw Sean's question. She replied, "I've got a notice on a package from Maxie's that's waiting for delivery. Did your friend get his mailbox up so we can tell Maxie to forward the notice to him?" Maxie's was the exclusive shop in downtown Seattle. They specialized in hard to find women's fashions adapted to the North Country. They had a very active mail order business through their website since many of the women in Alaska used them for special items.
Sean typed back to her, "Dunno, let me ping him."
He opened a system level box and typed in "run gyro ping two" on the command line and executed.
***************
Kihn was still jumpy and it bothered him. Jumpy people made mistakes. He had heard the helicopter again, closer this time. But it didn't land, just hovered for a short time then flew away down canyon.
Though Susan and the Lord had comforted him and the catharsis of actually telling her the truth had drained off some of the poison and killed off some of the demons of his past, the whole scene had left him drained. The residual stress made his nerves brittle.
He had almost reached the tree line where he had been planning to make their next camp when someone began to whistle a tune behind him. He spun around to see who was violating operational stealth and looked at Carlos then Susan. They both looked back at him, as shocked as he was. The whistle, very low but still discernable, repeated from behind him again. He waved the others off the trail and slipped his pack off to scout the area. Susan and Carlos looked at him quizzically but they maintained operational separation and melted off the trail into what cover there was.
As he lowered his pack he realized why the quizzical looks, the whistling was coming from an outer pocket on his pack. He dug into the pocket and came out with an odd shaped piece of scrap from the crashed UAV. He'd picked it up on a whim and now it was part of his kit. He couldn't leave it anywhere that a tracker might find it. It stopped whistling for ten seconds and then started whistling again. It was a tune he recognized, and it was an interval he knew.
Years before he had gone on a black, deep cover, Joint-op in South America with some SAS blokes. They had to meet each other and some locals in country, without breaking cover. Of course there were no pictures available for any of them. To identify their teammates they had all been assigned snatches of popular songs to whistle, at a specific interval. This was their initial contact identifier. The piece of scrap was whistling the identifying tune of a man that Kihn thought had been killed by the bad guys during the mission. It was also using the man's interval.
Kihn thought back to the crash site in the darkness. Why had he picked up this piece of scrap? It was on the way out and it was just a hunch... or was it? He glanced heavenward. _Lord, you guide my steps even when I stumble around in the darkness don't you?_ He almost jumped when an impression, like an audible voice, came back, _Yes I do. Learn to follow._ Kihn thought quickly, _Well Lord since I've got your attention, is this thing safe?_ ; a scripture came back _What is in thy hand?_
Kihn looked at the piece of scrap in his hand. Let's see where was that scripture?... Oh yeah, Moses in the wilderness of Sinai in Midian, by the burning bush. God was referring to Moses' rod that became a serpent. The rod that he used again and again to deliver Israel. Hmm? He made his decision. It was legitimate.
He turned the piece of scrap over in his hand and muttered, "Maxie, you old snake, sounds like you survived that ambush after all." A depression, that looked like a partially blown spot weld, had risen up from the surface and was now obviously a press tab. He pressed it once and the whistling stopped. An ear bud dropped out the ragged end of the piece. He looked at the piece more closely. It was machined to look ragged and then torched to look burned. Kihn caught the ear bud and eyed it with suspicion. Standard military issue. He held it up by his ear, "Authenticate Xray Tango Echo code,..." it was repeating. He glanced at Carlos. Carlos gave back a blank stare. It was his game face which meant _don't ask me boss. Not my electronics._
He wracked his brain for the old code. Years of having to memorize operational codes and coordinates kicked in and it came to him. He pressed in the pattern of Authentication code Xray Tango Echo from that long ago South American mission. They had used a tap code, but it worked fine with a push button too. One press, 3 seconds, four presses one second apart, wait five seconds, one press. He waited, listening.
A familiar voice began to speak in his ear, "Good evening Mr. Phelps, you probably think I'm dead, I assure you that I'm not. That particular fiction was necessary at the time. If you can't listen now please give me one press, if you can listen now two presses." Mr. Phelps, the team leader from the old TV show Mission Impossible, had been his code name on the mission. Only Maxie had ever used it.
He pressed the key two times. "Captain Kihn Waiting Bear, this is President Maximillian Fuentes, I have some information for you and an offer.
First a little background: I have been elected president of the new Raza Federal Republic, currently only of the Southwest. We have seceded from the Islamified US and established a new Christian government. As I speak our army is engaging the US troops still loyal to the Raghead usurpers. We've been recognized by Japan and the Chinese Confederation.
Second, your friend Robert has activated your old team and is gathering them in Anchorage. They are completely off the books and under the radar. Our agents tell us that they are not government so they should be friendlies. You can expect a visit from them soon.
Before you ask, I know because our spooks are better than your spooks, nobody ever sees the cleaning lady, wait staff, drivers or janitorial help mano. If they do see us a simple exasperated shrug is enough to send their suspicion sliding off elsewhere. La Raza has eyes and ears everywhere. We've been watching you since you pulled that church back from the brink and then dropped out of sight. We knew that you were eventually going to go on the run, that's why we infiltrated a team into Elmendorf to try to run interference for you.
Our team are the people who crashed that UAV to put this device in your hand. After we saw the discernment you showed in the Church rescue, we knew that you'd pick this piece up if you were the Lord's chosen for this position. Remember the old mestizo sexton that did the night cleaning at the church. The one that you thought didn't speak English or any Spanish dialect you knew? He was one of us."
Kihn thought back to the many nights when he had stayed late at the church counseling; or more often praying for wisdom. The weathered old mestizo janitor, more Indian than Spanish, had seemed to hover around his office. Often in his hottest battles of intercession he had caught the old man with tears in his eyes in the hallway outside his office. At the time he suspected that he had a secret prayer partner, but when ever he tried to ask, the old man had just smiled and shrugged. He had always assumed that it meant that the Mexican indian didn't speak a version of Spanish that Kihn knew.
Maximillian's voice continued, "I have been tasked by our legislature to form a northern command. We need to take the pressure off our southwestern troops. And we also want someone in place to help bring Alaska into our Republic. I can offer you an immediate Major's rank. The papers and pay may take a bit to get you but I can frock you through this communication method as soon as you accept. We will feed you some target objectives but until we can set up a full command structure you will have a free hand to engage targets of opportunity according to your judgment. Until we can do more recruiting you will be the ranking AFR officer in Alaska.
Now here is the bad news, you will have to recruit, train and equip you own company, or battalion if you can gather that many men. The upside is that you will have a legitimate military commission from a recognized, sovereign nation and you'll be on the right side of whatever law there is for a change.
We assume you will want time to think this over. After this transmission ends press the key three times and keep this unit communicator. We will contact you within 24 hours. If you want to give us an answer re-enter the Xray Tango Echo code and wait.
When you make your decision, if you wish to accept the commission press once, If you wish to decline press two times. This unit will self destruct 30 seconds after executing an affirmative or negative choice. Put it on a rock and step away after you accept or reject. If you accept you will be contacted by another method.
Kihn paused with his finger on the button. Given his shaken mental state he probably shouldn't jump either way before he prayed about it. He pressed three times then motioned Carlos and Susan toward him.
****************
A small radio button popped up on Stephanie's central screen, clicked and turned yellow. I was virtually invisible in the midst of the hash that was cascading over her screens from the worm attack. But she noted it and filed it away. She typed in another command that launched a monitoring program and said, "It's no use I'm going to have to reboot and build it over again."
Sean looked over at her, "Do it Steph. With Vince on line we've got time."
Her workstation died as she cut the power feeds to all but one hidden processor.
*************************
The system box on Sean's screen displayed the message "ping successful, 0.005 s" and then closed itself. "He got the notification" he typed to Jennifer then closed that status box as well.
_Now back to the UAV work of NOT finding Mr. Waiting Bear,_ he thought. He brought up the latest actual UAV downlink feed, not the recorded loop that played at the other end of the trailer for the benefit of the Colonel. This feed showed empty forest and ice sheet with no human life signs in sight as it soared over the edge of the Flute Glacier and continued north across the glacier field.
_Stephanie is one good programmer, more of a deft slicer than an hacker,_ he thought, _I'll have to ask her to show me how she blanked out certain infra red images without blanking all the wildlife this time... And she did it on the fly too. No wonder Manuel's head over heels for her._
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Post by newburydave on Oct 3, 2008 0:28:04 GMT -5
After they had finished instructing Amin to minimize the damage to his faith from the questing trance Sahiem sent him to call the driver and Limousine around. When they saw the limousine come past the study window he bowed his leave taking from the Imam and went out of the study.
Sahiem gathered up his entourage and herded them out to his limousine. He ordered the Mestizo driver to take them back to their hotel.
"Hafiz, how well do you know your Liaison officer up at the Air Force Base, Al Husani?"
Hafiz had wondered why he and Abdullah had been shepherded into the jump seats in the rear of the limousine, now he understood. "Effendi, I first met him in Beirut before he was dispatched to Anchorage. He comes very highly recommended from the Saudi Army command. He is a decorated combat veteran, a hero of the kingdom, for his defense of Riad during the Iranian invasion. The High Commissioner spoke very highly of him as well."
"A combat veteran, I thought he was a diplomatic Liaison officer?"
"He is Effendi, but he was home on leave when the Iranians invaded. He was the ranking infantry field grade officer in Riad and was ordered to command the ground defense. His defensive strategy was so innovative that it is being studied in the military academies around the world today."
"A hero of the kingdom eh? Do you know if he is completely faithful to Islam? Is he a religious man or merely political?"
"Effendi, the first thing I did was to check on his religious background; from the time of his circumcision at age twelve he has been a faithful pilgrim to Mecca almost every year. The Imam's of the mosques he attended assured me that he was one of their most faithful and observant members. Why?
Sahiem sat back and pulled at his beard. Finally he spoke. "I fear that we must move immediately to start the religious purges in the military units which are liaised to us. In the oracular vision I saw a very troubling concentration of Christians in both the American Army units and the Air Force. In particular it appears that the entire UAV control crew is composed of Christians."
Hafiz shot a shocked glance at Abdullah, _So it was true what Abdullah told me, Sahiem could see the secrets of men's souls, this could be a real problem. But as long as he is still working through me he can't have burned me as Mossad._ he thought.
"Effendi, if this is true they must have hidden it very deeply. I'm sure that Colonel Al Husani would have reported it if he knew. The High Commissioner told me that Al Husani served as his special envoy several times before this mission. He was a clandestine operative of the Organization while he was serving as Liaison to the US Joint Chiefs."
Sahiem nodded, the pieces all fit, the Organization of Islamic States created the international law that established the High Commission on Religious Discrimination and the Inspectorate. _So Al Husani has a history with them and the High Commissioner. I must watch him carefully._
He turned to Abdullah, "What about your Army liaison Colonel Ibn-Saud?"
"Politically and religiously he is above reproach; after all he is a royal cousin. Unfortunately I fear that his Colonelcy is due to his family connections not to any great military skills. It would appear that our Air Force Liaison would be a better fit for the Army base. But Ibn-Saud is politically secure and he knows that his performance is under a microscope."
"So you put the fear of the High Commissioner into him did you Abdullah?"
"I believe that he understands the cost of failure Effendi. The last time we spoke he was very earnest."
"Good." Sahiem made his decision, "I want to meet them both at the Inspectorate headquarters in one hour. We will get to the bottom of this Christian infestation and root it out before the Faithful divisions arrive to begin the civilian purges. Call them now and set it up brothers, we need to move quickly."
Abdullah and Hafiz pulled out their cell phones and pressed their speed dials.
Sahiem turned his attention to Amin. "I must be at the Inspectorate headquarters for the next day or two to coordinate events. We don't know what the American reaction will be. Amin I am giving you responsibility for Jamila's safety. If things get too dangerous here you will put her on my private jet and take her to safety;... back to Beirut if it is necessary. I've spoken to my pilot." he leaned close to his aide, "Her safety is most important, we've just learned that she is carrying my first male heir."
Amin looked at his mentor with surprise, "I will not fail you Emir. I will guard her and your son with my very life."
Sahiem regarded him with a measuring gaze, "Remember what I said about your street smarts Amin. Before this is over you may need all of them."
"Yes effendi, I understand, I will not fail you."
_Yes Amin, my faithful sword, of all my aides I believe I can trust you. You will not fail me._ he thought. But he couldn't see the thoughts swirling through Amin's heart.
*******************************
Al-Husani was driving across the Air Base toward the commandant's office after spending the afternoon watching more fruitless sweeps of the surrounding mountains with the UAV sensor packages. Something didn't seem right, but he couldn't put his finger on anything specific. There was something about the team of specialists that didn't seem normal to him for this type of unit. They were supposed to be a group of high tech experts assembled from different commands across the country specifically for this surveillance mission.
Al-Husani was an experienced combat field officer, he recognized the signs of a military unit who had pulled together and survived intense combat. There was easiness with each other born of implicit trust; a common mind that allowed them to finish each other's sentences. This UAV team had the signs of a tempered combat unit, not a group of disparate technical experts.
His own relationship with Jennifer was different. Their online relationship went back years. But the others theoretically had not even known each other prior to their deployment to Anchorage one month ago. Something was not right in the situation. The fact that he fit in with the team so well was even more of a question. He was a political and religious operative, the eyes and ears of the High Commissioner in the fine old tradition of the Persian satraps. He should not feel the kind of camaraderie that he did with these younger geeks.
His Cell phone rang with the distinctive ring that he had assigned to Hafiz. "Achmed here....yes salaam Hafiz...I just came from the control trailer...No I've not noticed anything that would indicate that...he did eh, so the rumors about him are true then...yes I can get there in one hour...good, I look forward to seeing you then."
Al-Husani turned his hummer away from the command building and steered toward the gate leading to Anchorage. _This should be interesting,_ he thought, _I've never met a real Seer before. I wonder what my Sunni Imam would think of such mystical nonsense. I shall have to determine exactly what this upstart Inspector General is talking about when he claims to be able to see peoples hearts._ Al-Husani chuckled, _ I wonder if he can see that I am his veiled evaluator for the High Commissioner._ He passed the gate and turned onto the local street leading into the heart of Anchorage. _We shall surely see brother Sahiem, exactly what type of fanatic you are. The High Commissioner will not be pleased if the rumors about your involvement with Sufism prove to be true._
******* At the Army base Ibn-Saud closed his cell phone. _This could be interesting. So the Inspector General claims to be able to see the hearts of men, eh. I wonder if he's tangled up in Shia mysticism. That would be an interesting fact to bring to the attention of my second cousin the king. Perhaps the absolute authority over my fate that Abdullah has claimed for his Emir would not be quite so absolute after all._ He chuckled to himself as he strode toward his car, _Yes this meeting should be very revealing, very revealing indeed. Let us see exactly what type of fanatic you are brother Sahiem._
********
Inside his palatial office at the top of the Religious Inspectorate building Sahiem paced back and forth in front of his desk. Hafiz and Abdullah sat to one side and watched him. He appeared to be as tense as a caged animal. They had heard stories about his tension before he made an arrest or launched a purge. They realized that they were seeing this legendary side of their Emir. It frightened them. Calmness and coolness was what was needed not restless energy.
The secretary buzzed on the intercom. Sahiem stabbed the button, "who's here?"
"Colonel Al-Husani and Colonel Ibn-Saud are here to see you Inspector General."
"Send them in."
The door opened and the secretary bowed the two officers into the office, she reached in and pulled the door closed after them.
Al-Husani spoke up first, "Salaam Inspector General You wanted to see us?"
Sahiem rounded his desk and faced them across its broad top, "Salaam Al-Husani, Ibn-Saud. Yes please be seated." There was something about the two Colonels' demeanor's that didn't sit quite right. They didn't have a properly subservient air about them. They acted as if they were here to evaluate him. This was troubling, but no matter there was work to be done.
"I have seen something in a vision that I find very disturbing about your liaison commands. Years ago Allah gave me the power to see into the hearts of men and identify hidden Christians in the midst of populations of people."
Al-Husani and Ibn-Saud traded a look. This was worse than either of them had suspected, he boasted of this mysticism.
"I know this sounds odd; but I assure you that my rise in the Inspectorate is due to the fact that I am never mistaken. While I was scanning over the Army base and then the Air Force base I identified concentrations of unmistakable Christians in both military installations. I am surprised that neither of you have reported this fact to me before now." Sahiem looked at both men significantly, trying to face them down and make them feel at the defensive. They merely looked at each other again and turned back to him, their faces bland and closed.
"Are you deliberately overlooking enemies of the Inspectorate in your liaison commands?" He snapped, annoyed by their lack of deference and guilt.
Abdullah stood and moved over next to him; turning away from the Colonels he gave Sahiem a warning look. Sahiem caught himself and curbed his temper.
"Please excuse my outburst brothers, I find myself very keyed up after this experience. I did not truly mean that I thought your were collaborating with our enemies. Sometimes it is hard for me to realize that all men don't see things as clearly as I do."
Al-Husani spoke up uninvited, "Thank your Inspector General, it would be most difficult to continue in our roles as Liaison officers if you harbored such suspicions of us. I assure you that we have seen nothing that would suggest what you claim to have seen."
Sahiem blinked at the temerity of the reply. _Was there a veiled threat in that statement? This one is a diplomat, highly recommended by the High Commissioner, I must watch myself._
"I'm sure that you didn't. No doubt they have gone to great lengths to avoid discovery." Sahiem reproached himself for showing temper.
"But the fact remains that there is a threat to our whole operation in this. We can't have potentially mutinous military people at the US Military bases in the area when the special divisions start the purges among the civilian population."
"You will begin purges so soon Inspector General?" Ibn-Saud questioned.
"Yes we must not lose any time. Apparently we won't be able to capture this Kihn person quickly, so we move on and remove his potential followers. But we must secure the total obedience of the military first. Therefore I am going to institute a purge at both military bases as soon as we can gather in all of our Inspectorate forces and get them equipped. I think the earliest we can move on it will be tomorrow."
"Colonel Al-Husani, we need especially to deal with the UAV team. They are all showed very bright Christian sign. I would say that they are of the level that we call martyr grade Christians. They will not turn to Islam if given a chance. Bring them all in for interrogation and then kill them."
Al-Husani tried to keep the shock from showing in his face or his demeanor, _Jennifer and Stephanie in the hands of the sadistic Inspectorate interrogators... that can't be._ "Must we be so hasty. They are the only ones who can pilot the UAV's--"
"The UAV's Colonel that have been unable to find anyone out in the mountains. Either those electronic toys are useless, or your technicians are deliberately missing the sign we're looking for. Given the strength of the Christian sign from that group I suspect the latter."
Al-Husani was shocked. First that they would deceive him. Second that they were able to deceive him. Well to be honest he had noticed some things, but geeks always gamed the system; He always gamed the system, just for the challenge and fun of defeating the defenses. He had figured that it was just harmless play. Like Stephanie ordering sexy warm clothes though a back channel.
Sahiem had moved on to Ibn-Saud, "...And Colonel, that tracking team that you sent into the mountains, two of them were also martyr grade Christians. When are they due back?"
"They have no set schedule, but they were told to have the fugitives captured by sundown tomorrow or there would be extreme unpleasantness."
Abdullah spoke up here, "Yes I told the Captain, Taylor is it? I told him that after two days if they were not found that he would lead his whole recon company out into the mountains; and that they would not come back until they had either captured of killed this Kihn person and his party."
Sahiem sat back, "Well brothers, the schedule has just been moved up. You will stay here tonight at the Islamic Hotel. You will meet the Inspectorate troops tonight as they come in from their outposts. We must strike quickly and decisively, the special purge divisions will begin landing tomorrow evening. We must be ready so they won't end up with a military led uprising such as is happening in California and western Mexico."
*****************
Outside of the Islamic hotel where he had dropped Amin and Jamila Ramirez Estaban sat in his Limousine, the picture of the devoted chauffer. He was idly playing a video game on his extended cell phone, or so it appeared to anyone outside looking in.
On the small screen he was composing a message. _Flash priority, Eyes only Manuel. RI planning to start purges within the next few days. Will start with Military, Date and time uncertain._
They had seen this pattern before in Oklahoma City, and many times since then. He coded the message and tried to send it but there was no cell signal in the garage. He keyed it to send as soon as his cell phone picked up a cell tower the next time they exited the garage.
He settled down to wait.
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Post by mongoose on Nov 4, 2008 1:17:19 GMT -5
Day 2 After Escape, 1830 hours
Kihn took a deep breath. This was huge. Up until now he'd lead the church in making decisions that would impact people's spiritual lives and death, and that had been tough. He'd more or less retreated from that responsibility just recently, and by stages, as he trained up his replacement. Shean Asherton would still be there with them, probably holding them steady against the tide of persecution. That had always been his leaning when it came to response to end times events. Kihn prayed quickly that God would preserve the faithful back home.
Then he'd led Carlos, his right hand man, and Susan, his wife, through the mountains these last two days and some. But here, for the first time in years, he was being offered the opportunity to command soldiers and lead or send them into harm's way. Perhaps their physical lives weren't as valuable as their spiritual, but there was no way he could command military troops on military missions, in the usual sense, since he gave his life to Christ. He'd be their spiritual shepherd as well, and some of them might not be believers initially. Of course, the same could be said in the church. But the church wasn't usually put at the risk of taking people's lives, or losing their own.
"We have a new development." He said to the other two. "This is a communicator, planted on one of the crashed UAVs by the Mestizos. You both know of them?"
They nodded, interested.
"They're trying to recruit me. Want me to recruit and command a company or larger sized unit up here, as a Major and ranking officer. The ultimate objective is to bring AK, militarily, into the Raza Federal Republic, currently consisting of most of the southwest of the former United States. I'd have authority over whatever I can put together, and they'd feed me missions but leave the decisions up to me till they get more organized and go feet dry up here."
He paused for a moment, taking in their expectant stairs. They were letting him be in charge. He had to go on. "I picked this up from the crash site, I believe, because God wanted me to. That means he wants me in contact with Maximillian, but is it for the purposes in Max's heart? I don't know about leading an army against the U.S."
He shook his head. "It smacks of rebellion, which is as witchcraft, according to Samuel. I'm inclined to accept the invitation for now. They can hardly control our activities more than the current army up here, which means we gain the intelligence, communications and support they can provide, and keep doing as the Spirit leads. But I want to hear your thoughts."
The arguments seemed to trip over each other tumbling out of his comrads mouths, and Kihn just sat and listened.
"It's just what we need! Authority and . . ." "They want to kill good American soldiers!" "They're recognized by other countries, right?" "You swore you wouldn't intentionally kill anyone." "They're not really fighting American's right . . ." "What's the real America anymore?" "The Islamists have taken over. Someone has to kick them out!" "It's like the revolutionary war." "Whatever the philosophy, this could help us survive!" "Unless we're going to stay backcountry forever . . ." "The winter's going to be tough. We can hunt . . ." "Game might be scarse . . ." "But we'll need help. Support." "And any remnant will need leadership. Or you'll have a scattered Christian mob. "Sheep without a shepherd."
They all paused at that for a moment, considering the grave consequences. They all knew how loath Kihn was to take orders from a traditional military chain of command or government. Carlos had been there and seen what those orders could do, and he didn't want to be put in that position either. But they were also right about the oncoming winter, and how supplies would run low. Just ascending to 2000 + feet they were feeling the bite in the wind. They would eventually have to make contact, for their own sake if not for the sake of those they'd be contacting.
"He wouldn't ask me to be a major and do my own recruiting if he wasn't willing to grant me the autonomy to determine what missions to take and how to execute." Kihn said, to sum up his decision. " I think we can, and should accept this overture, and I'll maintain our independence until and unless God shows his will is otherwise. We'll see what happens on a political level, but for now we'll resist the Islamic occupation in non-lethal ways. We have the weapons, the training, and we'll soon have the loyal troops. My old team's on its way under the command of Herbert. . ." Carlos smiled a little at that. The two of them had been like Spok and McCoy of the original Star Trek, ". . . and no doubt some of the soldiers from Ft. Rich can be persuaded to join us. They'll bring supplies, and their ammo can be modified appropriately. God supplies all our needs."
"Speaking of God," Susan spoke up, "I realized, Kihn, that you make your decisions and expect them to be followed, and I'll follow you." She glanced at Carlos, and he nodded. "But I still think we should pray for confirmation before you send a reply."
Kihn sighed. How had he gotten carried away, so soon after hearing from God? "Yes, of course." They all took hands, and bowed their heads, trusting that God would keep them from harm in-spite of, if not because of their attention being on him and off of their surroundings.
"God," Kihn began, "You are the supplier of all our needs, and you've brought this communication to us from our brothers in the faith down south. They've presented us with this decision, to follow them and fight for them here in Alaska, or to remain on the run and off the grid. You know our hearts, God, and how we want to follow you, to see your Kingdom come and your will done here on Earth as it is in Heaven. Please guide us now, and show us what you want us to do."
The other two muttered their agreement to the prayer, and then all sat silently. It was one of the ways Kihn had taught them since he began hearing the voice of the Lord.
Susan didn't know why, but something prompted her to look up as a magpie fluttered to a landing, unusually close. It eyed the metal piece Kihn had placed on a rock in their midst. The waning sunlight glinted off of a shiny portion of the surface, and the curious bird hopped from foot to foot in anticipation. Magpies loved shiny objects. She felt Carlos move, as though to shoo the bird, and grabbed his wrist, holding it still. The bird hopped backward once at the movement, but then returned.
"Lord," she said softly, "If you want us to say yes to the Mestizos, let this bird leave. If no, let it take the device."
Kihn's eyes went wide. This was just like Gideon's laying out of the fleece. It was never forbidden, nor even criticised in the scriptures, but most in the modern church looked down on the practice. One was supposed to accept the first word of God, on faith, rather than looking for confirmation. But they were already past that now, weren't they. They three of them waited expectantly, Kihn even moving back a little to give the bird space. If God wanted them to take the offer, the bird would stay away from the device even if they got up and walked away.
It only waited a moment, and then, as though spooked, flew upward and behind a scrub spruce.
Kihn looked back at Susan and Carlos. Both of them knew exactly what that meant, and both would accept it. Kihn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well then. No better time than the present."
He gently, almost reverently took the device back in his hand, removing his thin glove to get a better feel for it.
"Thank you, Jesus, for . . . Everything. You are so good, and your love endures forever. Thank you."
He pressed the button once, and stepped away. "fire in the hole. 25 seconds."
They helped each other to hoist their packs and resumed their trudge up the hill several paces. A quiet fizzeling culminating in a pop, like the reverse of opening a soda can, signaled the destruction of the communications device. Carlos went back to clean up the remains. It was getting late, and much as there might be benefits to traveling at night, it had been a hard day, it was getting cold, and there would be less shelter farther on. They'd have to trust no hostiles would catch up while they slept.
"Layer up." Kihn didn't need to explain. Susan and Carlos were both experienced in the mountains. They pulled the shells and fleece mid-layers from the tops and outside pockets of their packs and put them on over their one piece suits. Susan added a "Puff ball" jacket, the synthetic answer to down. All three donned gore tex parkas and rain pants with a micro-fleece layer on their exterior to minimize noise. The pattern, like that of their base layer, had been custom designed from the terrain. The jackets and pants were reversible, one side with the same spruce/birch pattern as the base layer, the other with a digitalized rock, snow, and brush pattern. Kihn wore his with the latter on the outside.
When all were bundled up, including in fleece or wool hats and mittens, they crawled under a low lying mountain hemlock tree, wrapped the sleeping bag around them as well as they could, and fell quickly to sleep. The dense evergreen needles on the tree provided excelent shelter from the wind, but the subzero temperatures began to seep through their clothes as they lay still. The sleeping was fitful, and Kihn took advantage of waking, cold, to put on an additonal layer and sit watch a while. When he started feeling sleepy again, he nudged Carlos awake, and he took over. Susan was next, and so it went until they'd had enough rest to move on.
It was still dark, several hours before dawn on day 3 after their escape, and there had been no sign of imminent threat. But the troops were down there, and friendly or not Kihn wanted an advantage. That would lie in the high ground. Cover would be less, but there were still rocks that could be used if they were careful to avoid skylining. The team shed layers, packed everything away, erased the signs of their camp as well as they could, and resumed their march upward by red leansed headlamp light.
They had to pick their way slowly for some time before the sun broke over the mountains. In that light the going was relatively easy, and they picked up the pace as much as they could, climbing up to the pass that would take them onto Flute glacier, and given the need to both avoid making noise and leaving a trail. They stayed low, below the ridge, side hilling and aiming for the small sub-drainages as much as possible. So it was that they reached the last ascent to the pass without incident.
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Post by mongoose on Nov 7, 2008 17:50:29 GMT -5
Day 3 after escape, 1400 hours
It took approximately five hours for Herbert and the team to reach the ford across the Eagle River, stopping for ten minutes each hour to eat high energy trail food and drink water. A little longer than expected. Perhaps they were getting a little out of shape? Such thoughts could not aid them, and were shoved to the back of the mind. They were here.
It was growing late, and would cool down quickly. They needed to cross the river, get warmed back up and dug into their observation posts before hypothermia became a serious threat. They stopped just long enough for those wearing shorts to pull on rain pants over everything, and then plunged in, holding hands for stability in the thigh high and biting cold river water. It was always a dangerous thing to wade across a river in the backcountry, and ford or not, this was no exception.
They crossed with boots on and packs straps buckled, and upon emerging, jogged immediately up the trail until they were out of site of the river. Herbert signaled, and four sergeants broke off into the brush to find good observation posts; high ground with a view of the surrounding countryside, but with sufficient cover they wouldn't be easily seen. The rest of the team continued down the trail, which headed some distance down valley before turning up the tributary valley toward Crow Pass, to the South East.
When the trail turned, Herbert waited till his scouts returned with word that the trail was clear, and then the rest of the team broke off the trail, heading west through the thick alders and other brush between the river and the mountain sides. This was some of the slowest and most difficult terrain through which to travel, especially when being careful not to leave a trail.
Two hours of bushwhacking later they came to the next drainage emptying into the Eagle River, and Herbert and four more men ascended to seek out OPs overlooking that exit from either side. This was the rout by which he figured Kihn would be most likely to descend, as it was difficult enough to be neglected by most hikers and the like, without being too close to the city. The other three continued to the last drainage they thought Kihn might use to descend from the higher portion of the Chugach Mountains.
So much of the work, the time, and the energy went into set up. Getting in and establishing their observation posts. Then it was all about the waiting. Every hour, at somewhat irregular inervals, each team broadcast a quick message over their pen communicators. "Snowy Owl, Brood 1. Where's the party?. Repeat. Snowy Owl, Brood 1. Where's the party? Come back?" The group in the middle drainage with Herbert was Brood 2, and the final group, closest to the city, Brood 3.
Herbert reflected with a smile as he lay on the cold ground -- Thank God for the mid-weight thermal underwear -- on the simplicity of their code, if it could be called such. They hadn't used that particular phraseology in the past, nor was it pre-arranged with Kihn, but he would recognize the call signs and type of language. That and it was transmitted on a frequency no one else used, much, but which would be picked up by Kihn's pen communicator.
They didn't wear camoflage, but were experts on natural camoflage, and with their earthy toned clothes, and being off the trail, it was unlikely they would be seen. So they lay in their natural blinds, bundled against the cold, and took it in shifts to watch and listen for Kihn, or anyone else for that matter, to approach.
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Post by newburydave on Nov 11, 2008 18:11:15 GMT -5
Time: Day 2 after Escape: 1700 hrs
Amin had not yet spoken to Jamilia about his new role as her protector. He felt he still had time and he wanted to compose his thoughts on the religious subjects before he approached her.
He left the hotel with Jamila to go to the Mosque for evening prayers. He had the doorman summon their limousine from the livery garage. As the long black automobile slid up the exit ramp out of the garage Estaban's cell phone acquired the cell repeater on the roof of the Hotel.
The waiting circuit in the cell phone uploaded the text message onto the cellular network. The tower transmitted it to a ground station in downtown Anchorage where it was routed by land line to the switchboard of the Saudi Consulate in Vancouver, British Colombia. From there it went as an outgoing call from the Consul's office to a cutout server in Chicago Illinois. It disappeared at that point into a stealthed line to Sacto, to the office of Manuel Fuentes.
An incoming flash priority icon popped up in Manuel's VR goggles. He opened the icon and Estaban's message scrolled through his virtual message ticker. He thought for a minute then composed what looked like typical spam email advertising male enhancement products and sent two messages off to two email addresses in Anchorage from the cutout server in Chicago by way of the Saudi Consulate in Vancouver. He then sent another stealthed packet to Stephanie from that same womens store in Seattle.
******
Time Day 2; 17:30 hrs
In the UAV control Trailer an incoming signal triggered the recording circuit in Stephanie's hidden processor. A status box popped up in her main display. The box said "the process has completed successfully. Click OK to close."
She clicked the big OK button and the box disappeared. Exasperated, She turned to Sean to vent, "I really wish the people who programmed our status boxes would get a little creative and not have such tunnel vision. One of the many processes I launched after I rebooted just completed and now I've got to run a diagnostic to find out which one it was. No additional information, no identifying dialog box. . . grrrr, Sometimes I hate programmers."
Al-Hussani smiled, he could identify with that sentiment perfectly. The Microsoft mentality that "My process is the center of the world" often drove him nuts too. He couldn't recall how many times he'd been in the middle of a debug and a status box about his Junk Mail inbox or some other inanity had popped up and blocked a line of two of code before he realized that the machine was waiting for him to click ok.
Stephanie dropped out to the system level and entered a command. <Prog debug diag 007 kwb 1>
She looked up and caught Al-Husanni's eye, "Now we'll see what that box actually meant."
A burst transmission went out up a satellite up link and retraced the path through the Taiwanese cut out server. On the other end of the chain a message popped up in the terminal window of Maximilian Fuentes' workstation.
He smiled, leaned back and said to himself, "All right Mr. Waiting Bear, now let's just see what we can stir up together in the north country.
He pressed a button on his intercom, "Louisa, please ask Manuel and Ernesto to join me. Tell them we need to discuss the Northern front."
"I'll call them sir."
"Thank you Louisa."
*****
Time: Day 2; 18:35 hrs.
Dale finished the climb up to the ridge line. One reason he had chosen to come back up to this crash site was that he estimated he could get a line of sight to the laser repeater on the end of the ridge for his laser comm unit instead of using a radio that could be intercepted. Below him he saw the other three laying out the campsite and getting ready to spend their first night in the boonies.
He found a place to set up his laser tripod. Using the optics in the laser aiming module he found the repeater in the failing light. Jeremiah had set the repeater up last month for some exercises they'd run in this canyon. He plugged in his headset and activated the comm unit.
"This is Kodiak 1 calling the Island, do you copy Island?" he waited for a response.
"This is Kodiak 1 calling the Island, do you- - "
He was cut off by Captain Taylors response, "You've got the Island Kodiak 1. This link is still secure. What's your status Dale?"
"We are making camp below the second UAV crash site Captain. We were able to do a pretty thorough scout of the actual site. Jeremiah read an interesting story out of the sign."
"What did he find Dale?"
"His best guess sir is that Owl was here alone about 24 hours ago. He probed the crash debris and picked some of it up to take with him."
"Was he scavenging for high tech parts? It doesn't seem like the best source for electronics after a crash and burn."
"That's what I thought too sir, but you know Jeremiah. He got a little mystical on us and said something about the warriors' code and the hunters' code. He said Owl was looking the enemy in the face, as if Owl is the hunter here not the Religious Inspectorate."
"Is that so? Sometimes Jeremiah scares me with the things he dredges up out of his primal lore. I've heard rumors about what happened to the Ranger team that was with Carlos when he went after Owl the last time. I don't think I'd want to be the prey that Owl was stalking."
"Well sir I'm not volunteering for that role either, but I think we're about to bump noses with him tomorrow if we're not careful. Jeremiah estimates that we're about half a day behind him right now. They're taking pains to be stealthy and it's slowing them down. If we push it we can probably overtake them sometime toward the end of tomorrow. Do you still want to drag it out to burn that Saudi?"
Taylor was silent for a long minute, "Actually Dale I think you should push it and make contact with them tomorrow if you can."
"A change of plans sir?"
"Yes I got a weird email just a few minutes ago."
"An email sir"
"Yes an email. You know one of those spam things for male enhancement, but when I selected it to delete, Jeremiah's decoder ring program went nuts. So I opened it."
"Sir how many times has Jeremiah warned you about opening strange emails?"
"I know, I know, but Jeremiah's program started decoding something and I thought it might be another message from our secret admirer. The worst that could happen is I'd have to borrow that cute specialist from the Zoomie's UAV control trailer again to straighten out my system, Stephanie something or other. You know the one, French last name. The one Ski's been mooning over."
"Sir aren't you a little old for those kind of games sir?"
"I am not old sergeant and I don't want any more of your impertinence."
"Yes sir; whatever you say sir. So what was the email?"
"It was a warning from our friend again. Kind of weird the way it read, 'The moon is right in the next week for Lebanese threshing. Let the chaff beware.' Does that mean anything to you Dale?"
Dale thought for a moment then blanched. "Sir I think it's warning us about Islamic military purges within the next week."
"That's what I thought too Dale. Well find Mr. Owl and tell him he may be getting reinforcements sooner rather than later. I'm not letting my command go down without a fight."
"So you want us to push the contact sir. Do you suppose you can arrange for the satellite coverage ahead of schedule for our little show just before sundown tomorrow?"
"I'll get in touch with my contact in Washington Dale. Either he or his second can set it up. Do you think our little misdirection will work?"
"Oh sir, it will be so sad. The intrepid tracking team taken out by the dangerous religious terrorist; but with their last breath they manage to bring down the evil, nefarious Christian infidels. The sad scenes of the last heat bleeding from their dying bodies into the unrelenting cold of the Alaskan wilderness will be heartrending. Maybe the ragheads will make an inspirational video out of it."
Taylor chuckled, "Save the Acting for the cameras Dale. Are you sure you have enough of those new anti-infrared parkas for both of your parties, we're still not sure how many Owl has with him."
"Yes sir, Jeremiah packed extras based on the normal size of Owl's prayer groups. We should have plenty; they're not very thick or heavy after all."
"OK trooper, go out there and break a leg.
"Yes sir, is there anything else from your end , that's all I've got up here sir."
"No that's all Dale, go get some sleep and find me an Owl tomorrow. Island Clear."
"Yes sir. Kodiak 1 clear."
Dale took down his tripod, stowed his comm gear and started the descent down the ridge to his camp below.
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Post by mongoose on Nov 14, 2008 0:26:48 GMT -5
Time: Day 3 after escape, 0700 hours
The top of the pass was just ahead. At least, so it appeared, and Kihn couldn't recall any false passes along this rout from when he'd hiked it before. He motioned for the others to get down and wait a moment, then got down on his belly and inched forward.
Even lying down and reaching the top of the pass, he kept to the low areas as much as possible, taking advantage of the snow drifts from last week's storm. None of the snow had reached Anchorage, but this dusting would remain until next July. The snow was cold and would sap energy, and so he was grateful for the micro-fleece suit he still wore next to his skin, and the extra insulating layer of mid-weight fleece under his parka.
He broke over the ridge by stages, and peered into another world. The moss, lichen, and low shrubs of the tundra were left behind. Where the wind had blown the foot of light, new snow from the ground, bare rock and scree were exposed; The morains and bedrock left behind by the retreating glaciers. And there, below, the relatively flat expanse of the glacier itself, the pale blue ice bare of snow in many places. The wind through here was constant. He pulled a flap of his shemagh, the traditional head scarf of desert nomads, over his face and ducked behind a rock out of the wind.
Kihn reviewed in his mind the landscape he'd just surveyed, and found no signs of life in it. Not even the ravens who would venture up here after human food. He waved the other two forward and, sitting behind the boulder, they prepared for travel on the glacier. Kihn replaced his rubber soled moccasins with heavy duty mountaineering boots. Crampons would follow when they hit the ice. Polarized shooting goggles covered the portion of his face exposed by the shemagh, effectively protecting him from wind, cold, and the intense glare of the sun off the ice. With shell mits over his fleece gloves, and the option of his parka's hood if it grew too cold or windy for even the shemagh, Kihn was effectively weather proof.
Susan and Carlos arrayed themselves in similar fashion. All slid into climbing harnesses, and roped up, 15 feet of thick, nylon climbing rope between them. Packs several pounds lighter hoisted to their backs, and ice axes in hand, they began the descent to the face of the glacier.
Two hours later, it seemed they had only just stepped foot onto the ice. They had covered a fair distance in that time, but all weaving back and forth looking for a place to cross the crevas before them. The gap was only ten feet across, and on a good day they might have been able to leap it, but not with 80+pounds on their backs, and wearing heavy boots and crampons. They had to find a place where the ice compressed in a low place or around a corner, narrowing the crevases to a distance they could leap.
Kihn shook his head at the thought of scenes he'd seen in the previews of a climbing movie. Something about a limit. The character ran, lept a crevase, dropped a good ten feet on his way, and caught himself by his ice axe on the other side. Yeah, right. His ice axe might have caught, and his hand might even have held onto its handle by the leash, but it would have been torn out of socket. There would be no heroics or acrobatics for them up here. A slip could mean death, probably for all of them.
Finally he found a place. It was a reach, so they took measures. Carlos would be the first across, being the most athletic. His pack remained on the side from which they came, for the time being. Second, they put in an ice anchor, three points of protection, each of which should be able to hold the heaviest of them if they missed. The edge was clearly marked and scraped free of snow. Carlos roped into the anchor, as though he were going to rapel into the crevas, and let out a sufficient length of rope to get across.
He shifted his grip on his ice axe, took a deep breath, nodded to the other two who lay, self arrested and tied into the other rope on him, and charged forward. Two steps and he launched himself across.
He felt the two toe prongs of his right crampon catch in the snow on the other side of the crevas. Time seemed to slow for a moment, as the snow gave way. He was falling. Without thought he threw himself forward from what grip he had left, landing across the handle of his ice axe, his weight burrying the blade deep in the snow. He was secure. A moment more, and nothing moved. He kicked first one leg, and then the other up over the edge, and rolled away from the crevas, on the far side from his companions.
Now it was time to put in another anchor on his side, and string the ropes tight between the anchors on either side of the crevas. That done, Carlos tossed a length of rope back, and it was tied to his pack, which he pulled across. Susan attached a four foot length of heavy duty webbing to her harness on one end and the tight rope on the other, by locking caribeeners, and tied into the other large line for Kihn to belay her as she crossed. Kihn, for his part, was tied into another anchor on the near side, so that even if everything else went wrong, he could keep her from falling into the crevas without being pulled in himself.
He nodded to her, and she looked to Carlos, who waited, frowning, on the other side. Still, it was probably the best way, and she had what it took. Fixing her eyes on the anchor on the far side, she stepped out onto the tight rope, waited a moment for it to steady, took another step, and walked across, towing the webbing safety line behind her.
Carlos, now secured into his own anchor, reached to grab her before she quite made it, and pulled her in. Susan waited till she knew both of them were clear, and gave him a hard, unexpected shove. He teetered for a moment before falling into the snow. "I was doing very well on my own, thank you!" She said.
"Shhhh! Voices carry across the ice."
"Hmph. Better get ready for Kihn. He'll have the hardest time of it."
Susan checked Carlos' apparatus, and gave the thumb up to Kihn. He sent her pack, and then his own across before taking the hardware from his side and attaching it to his harness. There was no way to secure himself closer to the other side, so he would just have to either clear the crevas in this jump, or fall in. He double and triple checked his rope, knot and harness, and made sure Carlos had the rope as tight as possible while allowing him the room for the two steps run.
The following move took a coordination grown from years together in the field. Kihn signaled, and Carlos, holding the belay line in the break position, took off at a run away from the crevas with Kihn charging the crevase at the same rate. Meanwhile, a second climbing rope, tied into Carlos' harness ran through a pully attached to the anchor, and was tied into Susan's harness on the other end. She, in turn, charged back toward the crevas.
Kihn, Carlos and Susan Each took two long steps and threw themselves forward. Carlos hit the ground in a self arrest. Kihn's leading foot scraped the far edge of the crevas, and he fell short. Susan threw herself to the edge of the Crevas, ready to roll into it to serve as a counterweight to Kihn, should Carlos' self arrest fail. Kihn's fall ended abruptly at the end of the rope, five feet below the edge of the crevas, counting rope stretch. Carlos slid back toward the crevas only a foot before digging the ice axe in deeper, while Susan kicked her feet over the edge, digging in her own ice axe.
They were safe. Now it was time for Kihn to climb out. Carlos and Susan, in the meantime, just had to hold their peace and avoid hypothermia as the snow in which they lay sapped the heat and energy from their bodies.
Kihn knew it would be difficult to climb out of the crevas, especially on the relatively thin, nylon climbing rope with gloves and mittens on his hands. Hanging by the rope on his harness he removed his mittens and dropped his ice axe to let them hang by their respective straps from his wrists. He took an even smaller line from his harness, and tied it with a prussic knot to the larger line. The same process followed with his second prussic line. He removed his crampons and attached them to caribeeners on his harness, and slipped his right foot into the loop on the end of the lower prussic line. The other prussic was tied into his harness.
Holding the large line for stability, he stood to his full height in the stirrup on the lower prussic. With the tension of his weight on the prussic knot, it held on the larger line. Standing in the stirrup, he slid the other prussic knot, unweighted as it was, up the large line. Then, resting his weight off of the upper line, he slid the stirrup up. He stood again, and so he repeated the process until he was high enough to roll out of the crevas.
Kihn lay there for a moment, regaining his breath and composure. One didn't stop to think of how close they were to death, when they stood on the edge of it. They simply acted as they had been trained. The processing and emotional aftermath happened later.
"We about there yet?" Susan interrupted his thoughts. "I'd like to get up now, if that would be okay."
"Right. Sorry. I just had to climb out of a crevas. Life nearly flashed before my eyes. Say, Either of you ever had that actually happen?"
He rolled back onto his front, away from the crevas, and after making sure he was on solid ice, rose, and belayed himself closer to Carlos and the packs using the prussic lines. "Okay, we're secure. Let's eat and drink a bit, pack, and move out."
So they did, sitting at the crevas, and fifteen minutes later they continued the tedious process of finding a rout through the maze of crevases across the glacier. Kihn took some comfort in the fact that, unless the enemy used choppers, they'd have to go through the same trials.
They stopped for a longer break around noon and then pressed on. While on the glacier they never stepped out of the leash between them, and never set anything smaller than their packs and anchors in the snow. Privacy was not nearly as important an issue as safety, and they would simply turn their backs on each other at appropriate times. After the first sizable crevas they had a better feel of the glacier, and were able to find places to jump across the next several crevases. It was still painfully slow going, but they were making progress.
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Post by newburydave on Nov 17, 2008 10:44:32 GMT -5
Dale watched Jeremiah work the trail and thought again that he was their secret weapon when it came to tracking. Something about the big man was in a fundamental harmony with the arctic wilderness. It was as if he was a virtuoso playing a part in a symphony and he felt the harmony and rhythm of all around him at an instinctual level.
He had been one of the best trackers in the recon teams in Iraq, but when they'd rotated back to Alaska he'd merged back into the ecosystem of his birth and rearing without missing a beat. Sometimes he seemed more like an elemental force of nature than a man.
They'd broken camp before sunrise and started out as soon as Jeremiah could read sign. Jeremiah was walking point for the team. The trail was so clear to him that the others didn't need to fan out to look for sign. Owl had been moving fast and in an almost straight line. That didn't bode well for the mental state of their friend. People on E&E who straight-lined for any distance wound up caught quickly. He'd obviously suffered some kind of trauma, probably emotional or psychological, before he had gone up "to face the enemy" at the UAV crash site.
Dale wasn't a shrink or a clinician, but he'd been leading men in the crucible of combat for a lot of years and he knew the signs well. People who lost their focus died. He hoped that Owl had gotten it back together again before he got back to the others in his party. He tried to put himself in Owl's shoes. He shook his head again, he and Jeremiah were the quintessential bachelor non-com lifers, married to the service for all practical intents. He couldn't imagine having a wife with him on the run after having to bail out from everything normal in less than fifteen minutes.
Jeremiah stopped and turned to look back at him, "Dale will you please keep your internal arguments quiet. You're breaking my concentration with all your head shaking, focus man." He said in a stage whisper that carried back.
Dale kept walking and came up even with him, "Shouldn't we be trying to be quieter?"
Jeremiah gave Dale one of his trademark long speculative looks, "No need to Dale. Kihn knows we're back here. He knew yesterday when we did the touch and go at the mouth of the canyon."
Dale was startled, "But how Jer? We've been quite a ways back from him until today."
Jeremiah smiled, "Trust me Dale, he knows. Probably knows about how many there are of us too. I just hope he figures out who we are before any one in his party starts shooting."
Jaralouski and O'Donnel came in from the flanks when they came up even with Dale and Jeremiah. Jaralouski spoke up first, "Did you find something Jeremiah?"
"No," he glanced at Dale, "We're just talking about our friend up ahead."
Dale spoke up, "So why are you so sure he knows we're back here, is it one of those native tracker things?"
Jeremiah smiled, "Well there is that, but I was thinking more about his spiritual discernment. He is still a preacher you know, a seer in the language of scripture, and the Lord just lets us know things through the Spirit."
Jaralouski rolled his eyes, "Oh right you guys have a God radio net don't you, I keep forgetting about that."
Jeremiah looked at Jaralouski. Jeremiah was a lay preacher and he had taken Jaralouski's agnostic skepticism as one of his own personal ministry burdens. When you carry a prayer burden for someone you get to know them pretty well. He sensed that Ski's voiced skepticism was more to keep up his skeptic image than any real heartfelt reservations. Like he wanted to believe but habit was tying him to his old behaviors.
"Come on Ski, you've even seen it work. Like that time when you and Owl were cut off by the Republican Guard patrol and we couldn't break radio silence to find you."
Jaralouski stared back at Jeremiah, "You mean that was how you guys - -"
"The Lord guided my steps in the sewer Ski and showed me which of the old connection pipes to blow so you guys could bail out just before that Iraqi tank came through the front wall of the house to visit you."
"But I thought the guys back at base - - Oh yeah you couldn't break radio silence either."
"You got it bro."
"OK you two we can reminisce about combat theology later right now we've got people to find. I'm more interested in whether Owl is going to greet us with open arms or are we going into a hot LZ?"
The three trackers looked at Jeremiah. Jeremiah shrugged, "Hey what do you think I am a prophet or somethin'?"
Dale cocked his head, "Well yeah, Jer; in fact I think that's exactly what you are. Isn't that the point you made in Sunday school last month that New Testament preachers are actually the same as Old Testament prophets based on what they do in God's economy."
"I hate it when you quote me Dale. I can't even say that your source was ignorant."
"Well you said it Jer, does it apply in this case or not. I mean God doesn't take gifts back but He doesn't always work through them the way we expect either. Are you getting anything about what we should expect when we contact Owl?"
O'Donnel and Jaralouski looked at each other feeling like odd men out in this conversation. O'Donnel's traditional Irish Catholicism and Jaralouski's very secular Jewish background didn't prepare either of them to understand what Dale and Jeremiah were talking about. But they'd been through enough with the two "religious fanatics" to know that what ever it was it had proved that it had the power to keep them alive when bigger tougher teams had gone down hard.
Jeremiah looked off toward the northern ridge for a long minute. Finally he turned back and looked at the other three, "The only thing I've been getting is all about Owl's own personal mental state. He's in a world of hurt right now internally. Sudden moves are hard even on nomadic peoples like my relatives among the Yupic's. There is an incredible amount of family stress when you have to abandon a winter fishing camp quickly even when you know the thaw's coming. Owl and his wife aren't used to that kind of thing, and Carlos presence is an added pressure in the situation."
Dale looked up toward the pass that led up to Flutie glacier, "So you think Owl may not be sending and receiving on the Spirit's wavelength clearly right now?"
Jeremiah nodded slowly, "That's what I'm getting Dale. Even the fact that he straight-lined for most of two hours going up to this crash site says bad things about his internal state. His natural sensitivity is knocked way back and he's not thinking clearly. Some kind of major internal emotional trauma is eating up a lot of his heart right now. I'm sure when he puts his mind to praying about something he get's it loud and clear, but based on what I see I'd say he's distracted from praying contiunously right now. It's hard to predict how he'll react when we make contact. I only hope he hasn't fallen off the wagon about using deadly force."
Dale blinked. Unbidden a scene flashed through his mind of Kihn and Jeremiah in a fight to the death like the rumors said that Kihn and Carlos had done when Kihn was apprehended. He shook his head, that was not something to think about. He expected it would actually play out more like the famous scene from "Ben-Hur" where the two champion Christian gladiators had been forced to fight one another, but he didn't even want to think about that possibility.
"So we move deliberately and walk carefully."
Jeremiah nodded, "That's what I'd recommend Dale. He might be headed for Flutie glacier," he pointed toward the side pass ahead of them, "If he is we won't catch up with them till they clear the other side of the glacier. Just getting across that thing whole will be enough of a challenge without speculating about what to do once we get into contact range of Owl."
Dale squinted back at the rising sun, "OK then, lets move out. Jer you're still point; Danny and Ski back on the wings; I'll walk the tail. Keep your eyes and ears open, and Jer, lets make this a prayer walk."
Jeremiah nodded.
O'Donnel and Jaralouski looked at each other again. They'd both understood a lot more of the religion speak than they'd expected. They hoped that Dale and Jer could pull another miracle out of a hat because neither of them wanted to go up against Owl if he was shocked back into the deadly force mode.
Jeremiah moved out down the trail, Donny and Ski faded into the sparse forest to either side of the trail. Dale stood still on the trail watching them go. He looked toward the pass up to the glacier and sent a prayer heavenward; _Lord Please speak to Kihn's heart and tell him not to shoot us, that we're coming as his friends. In Jesus name, Amen._
Dale hitched up his pack straps and stepped off down the trail 50 yards behind Jeremiah.
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